


honesty

by foxmagpie



Series: little gifts [10]
Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: F/M, Honest Conversations, Rio Cooking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 08:47:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19764697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxmagpie/pseuds/foxmagpie
Summary: Beth struggles with whether or not to tell Rio that she, Annie, and Ruby have stolen back Boomer's body. Rio keeps Beth in the loop about new business developments, and Beth fights for a bigger role in their partnership. Rio opens up to Beth, literally and figuratively, when he invites her to stay over for the first time.---Beth lets out a breath, relaxing. “You’re not mad?”He shrugs. “Nah, I’m mad,” he says, coming closer still. “But you protecting you."“And that’s… okay with you?” she asks uncertainly. “Even in this partnership?”Rio’s now close enough to take his pinky and push her bangs to the side. “Partner’s gotta trust each other,” he says. “Have each other’s backs. Be loyal.”They just stare at each other for a moment, Beth’s eyes darting, trying to read him, trying to understand.“But that don’t come instantly. It’s gotta be earned.”“I’ll earn it,” Beth promises.“Yeah,” he says, nodding slightly. “Me too.”





	honesty

Nearly two weeks pass after the day Rio took Beth to his apartment and they had slow, lazy, comfortable sex in his bed. After, they’d just laid there together, silent, each in their own thoughts, with Rio running his hands through her hair and Beth running her fingers lightly up and down his chest, sometimes fiddling with his necklace. 

She never thought she’d be interested in a man who wore jewelry—she’s been thoroughly conditioned by society to see it as feminine and therefore unattractive—but Rio seems to love wearing it, and Beth finds herself surprised that she sort of loves it on him. She’s seen him wear multiple rings and he always seems to be sporting those identical black bracelets. He’d also worn this same necklace when they’d slept together at her house, and she wondered while playing with it there in his bed whether he always wore it, whether it was sometimes just out of sight, tucked beneath his shirts, laying against his skin. 

Beth’s hands had trailed up to the bird on his neck, tracing the minute details of the ink—she’d never expected to be attracted to someone with such a distinctive, loud tattoo, either. 

Or a criminal. A drug dealer. A murderer. Everything about Rio is so far from what Beth had thought she was interested in, so far from the type of man she ever even thought she _could_ be attracted to, yet here she was in his bed, naked and curled against him in perfect, contented quiet. 

Sometimes questions popped into her brain, things she might want to ask him, but she didn’t—not because she felt like he wouldn’t answer (his guard seemed down, actually) but because she wanted nothing more than exactly what was happening in that untainted bubble of a moment. 

They hadn’t had a chance to see each other since then, though. There’d been no developments so far in whichever way they were going to flip their game, and it was a busy season—the kids all had pageants and recitals and performances coming up, and Beth was preparing for Christmas on an extremely tight budget. 

Boland Motors was still being investigated by the FBI, although Beth wasn’t sure why, since it didn’t appear that they had found anything yet. Because of this, Dean had traded in his suits for khakis and a baby blue polo for his new job at Wheel Deal, which Beth knew it was humiliating for him. She’d been trying to be extra nice to him because of this (and because the custody issue hadn’t come up once since their last discussion, which she thought boded well for her). 

She also knew this was their last Christmas together as a family, even as a slightly unconventional family, so she was trying to make it special. She’d scoured the house for things they didn’t need anymore—old clothes, discarded toys, unread books and forgotten electronics—and sold them on Craigslist to make some extra money. Then she’d bought Dean his Christmas gift: a massage from a new place that had just opened downtown that was offering discounted gift certificates to try and drum up some business. She thought it might help him destress from this new job he so clearly hated.

Beth had considered whether or not she should get Rio something, too, but as hard as she tried, she couldn’t come up with anything. She knew from his apartment that his taste was expensive—his housewares, his art, even his clothing was out of her price range. She considered jewelry, but it felt too personal somehow, so eventually she just gave up, certain he wasn’t stressing himself out about this, so she wouldn’t either.

Yet she was itching to hear from him, to see him—and not just because she really needed them to get a jump start on figuring out what was next for them work-wise. Dean is providing for her and the kids _now_ , but she knows that it won’t be long before the divorce papers are signed and notarized and officially processed, and she thinks she’ll be pushing her luck if she asks for any alimony. She's got to start making money again. 

This is what Beth is thinking about when Annie FaceTimes her, insisting that she and Ruby need to get to her apartment immediately.

* * *

Beth and Ruby sit on opposite ends of Annie’s couch. Beth’s legs are crossed and her hands are clasped, poised perfectly on her knees. Ruby’s got her arm propped up on the arm of the couch, her head pressed into her hand. In front of them, Annie paces back and forth. 

“Annie? You called this meeting,” Beth reminds her gently.

“Okay, uh, well. Okay. I have a few developments. Some good, some bad.” Annie glances at Ruby. 

“Annie,” Beth says like a warning.

“Do you want the bad or the good first?” Annie bites her nails. 

Ruby says “the good” while Beth says “the bad.” They look at each other, and Ruby concedes.

“Okay. The bad…” Annie lets out a shaky breath. “I already told Ruby. Ruby, would you tell Beth please?” Annie turns around, refusing to look at Beth, but Beth has already spotted the swelling tears threatening to spill out of her eyes.

Unlike Annie, Ruby is direct. “Noah’s FBI. She told him things. That’s how they knew exactly what to look for at the dealership.”

 _“What?”_ Beth demands, her voice loud and icy. Annie still doesn’t turn around. Beth’s temporarily speechless, fury clouding her brain so that it’s impossible to form sentences. Pinching the bridge of her nose, Beth finally manages to spit out, “I distinctly remember you telling me ‘this is going to end badly for all of us’ when you discovered that I am—when I slept with Rio—” 

“Jury’s still out on that,” Ruby says. Beth whips her head to look at Ruby, betrayed, but Ruby just mouths _sorry_ and shrugs. 

“But _this_? Annie, this is so much worse.” 

It takes a while for everyone to calm down enough to hear the good news. Annie’s crying gets louder and more hysterical, Beth’s interrogation of just what, exactly, Annie told him is filled with biting commentary and judgment, and Beth keeps starting over from Point A asking, “Why on earth would you ever tell him _anything_? You just met!” Ruby is mostly quiet through the whole thing, but every now and then, when Beth’s words get particularly scathing, she jumps in to point out that Annie is already beating herself up, and Beth isn’t helping. 

Somewhere along the line, Beth becomes exhausted and also dimly aware that while Ruby has Stan, and Beth has Rio (and sort of, in a way, Dean), Annie has no one of her own to lean on through any of this—she’s just… alone, all while trying to shield her older, much more observant son from the truth. This realization doesn’t dull Beth’s ire with Annie or the terror that’s swimming through her bloodstream, but it does allow Beth to finally, _finally_ take a step back, regroup, and ask in a much gentler tone, “So what’s the good news?”

Annie’s hands are barely poking through the too-long sleeves of her sweater as she wipes her eyes. “I found the body.”

“You’re kidding,” Ruby says, wide-eyed, but Beth closes her eyes, focusing on breathing steadily through her nose. She _wishes_ she could see this as purely good news, but there’s a stone in the pit of her stomach. “Where?” 

“It’s at Fine and Frugal in the meat freezer,” Annie says, sitting down on her coffee table. “Boomer was running his own side hustle… letting hunters and some, ah, less savory folks store their kills in exchange for money—and no questions.”

“Well, now what?” Ruby asks. 

_Exactly_ , Beth thinks. _Now what_? There’s a part of her that worries about Rio’s reaction to them stealing the body back—this spot they’re in, where they’re good personally and iffy professionally? It’s tenuous, fragile. Will doing this fracture them, or will her cunning and boldness impress him? He’d told her she needed to prove herself, but somehow she didn’t think this was going to speak much to her commitment to partnership.

“I say we take it and, I dunno, bury it in Beth’s backyard until we have a better plan?” Annie proposes. “We can’t just leave it there for Gang Friend to hold over us whenever he’s pissed off. I know we’re done and squared up with him, like, right _now_ , but I don’t get the feeling that that’s permanent, considering Ruby’s just paid her lawyer with counterfeit cash.”

Beth rubs at her temples. She didn’t know that about Ruby. 

“Why my backyard?” Beth asks defensively.

“Well… I think Stan and Ruby are already a bit more under the microscope than either of us, what with Stan’s arrest and all…” Annie shrugs. “And I don’t have a backyard, so.” 

“This is a terrible idea,” Beth says. “And I’m not sure how Rio will react.”

“Who cares?” Annie says. “He’s never killed us before. Not sure why this would be the proverbial straw. Honestly, we’ve done him dirtier.”

“I don’t think that’s what she’s worried about,” Ruby points out.

Annie looks between Beth and Ruby, realizes she’s missing something. “What does _that_ mean?”

Ruby gives a pointed look to Beth, like, _Your sister just confessed everything to you, so maybe you should return the favor._

“I’m… working… with Rio again,” Beth says. “Dean’s not going to take the kids.”

“Working, huh?” Annie asks with bite, seeing right through Beth’s careful word choice. “So, what, you’re worried your boyfriend’s gonna get mad at you for stealing back the dead body he uses to manipulate you? You think it’s a better idea to keep it in the _freezer_ of the grocery store the fed is pretending to manage for his cover? Huh?”

“Rio’s not my boyfriend,” Beth huffs. “And do I really have to remind you that the undercover fed is _your_ boyfriend?” 

“Can we all just admit that our love lives and criminal lives are a jumbled mess and move on?” Ruby asks. “All of these problems are way bigger than us, but the way I see it? The body’s the only one we can even sort of solve right now.”

Beth hates it, but she agrees. They bury Boomer in her backyard.

* * *

Beth wavers on whether or not to tell Rio, whether it’d be better or worse for him to discover it on his own. She wonders whether he’s really keeping that close of tabs on the body—now that he got her attention and she’s back in the business, did he really have any need to keep double checking that it was still there? She might be able to go months before he has to know...

She’s thinking about all of this as she drives to Rio’s apartment. He finally has some news about their next business venture, and her left knee bounces in combined anticipation and nervousness as she drives.

Beth knocks on his door precisely three times. When Rio opens it, he kisses her lightly before stepping aside to let her in, and with those two simple actions, Beth knows she has to tell him, knows she can’t keep secrets from him while he’s opening himself up to her. The ways might be small and mundane, but for a man like Rio, Beth knows inviting her into his home and being gentle and soft and _normal_ takes a lot of effort. 

Rio walks past Beth into his kitchen. “You want some tea? A bourbon?”

“You drink bourbon?” Beth asks. “I thought you were a vodka man.”

“I am,” he says, and she knows that he’d stocked it just for her. 

“I’m good,” Beth says. Rio shrugs and pulls down just one mug for himself, then begins to busy himself filling up a kettle at the sink. “Actually, I need to tell you something.” 

Rio turns around to look at her, jaw slack, curious. He takes her in: she’s still got her coat on and her purse is still around her arm. “You plannin’ on makin’ a hasty exit afterward?” 

“Depends on your reaction, I guess,” she says, and her fingers twitch as she pushes her bangs to the side. 

Rio sets the kettle on the burner and then looks up to give Beth his undivided attention. He’s standing at his full height now and his expression has tensed in an attempt to look indifferent. “I’m listenin’.”

Instead of looking directly at Rio, Beth studies all the items on his open-shelving. Cutting boards, a spice rack, a scale, something that looks like a tortilla press. She wonders if he cooks. He must—this kitchen equipment is high-end, and considering how private he is, it doesn’t seem like he’s flaunting these items off to anyone. 

“Elizabeth,” he drawls to try and regain her attention.

“We found the body,” she says, and she glances at him. Besides his lips thinning into a tight line, he doesn’t visually react. “We took it back.”

“Oh, you did, huh?” His finger twitches on the island countertop. “And why’d you do that?” 

Beth swallows, and decides he deserves the truth—not just because she respects him, but also because she wants him to know that what he did didn’t sit right with her.

“I did what I had to in order to avoid getting body parts mailed to me to scare me into doing your bidding,” she says. There’s no malice in her voice, but she’s firm.

Rio licks his lips and then sucks his lower lip into his mouth, frustrated. “I see. Not a fan of my tactics.”

Beth wrinkles her brow at him. “No, of course not. Anyone could have opened those packages—Dean, my _kids_. Why did it have to come to that?”

“You weren’t answerin’ my calls,” he says simply, but she can see the muscles in his jaw tightening. 

“There are other ways—” 

“Yeah? You think so? Because even with fingers and toes and ears showin’ up in your mailbox, it took a pretty long time for you to come lookin’ for me.”

Beth starts fidgeting with the buttons on her coat. Would she have come at all if the threats hadn’t been so frightening?

“So now you wanna be partners, f’real this time,” Rio says, stepping around the counter towards her. “Sayin’ you in it, you committed. But you doin’ this.”

Beth doesn’t respond. She stares at the ground. She shouldn’t have told him.

Rio takes another step towards her. “You took that body because you don’t trust me.” 

“You’re the one that keeps insisting I shouldn’t,” she says, holding her breath. 

Another step. “That’s good,” he says softly. Beth’s eyes flick up to his, and his are crinkled at the corners. “You’re learnin’.”

Beth lets out the breath, relaxing. “You’re not mad?”

He shrugs. “Nah, I’m mad,” he says, coming closer still. “But you protecting you.” 

“And that’s… okay with you?” she asks uncertainly. “Even in this partnership?”

Rio’s now close enough to take his pinky and push her bangs to the side. “Partner’s gotta trust each other,” he says. “Have each other’s backs. Be loyal.”

They just stare at each other for a moment, Beth’s eyes darting, trying to read him, trying to understand.

“But that don’t come instantly. It’s gotta be earned.” 

“I’ll earn it,” Beth promises.

“Yeah,” he says, nodding slightly. “Me too.”

Rio presses his forehead to Beth’s and they just breathe each other’s air for a moment until the kettle starts whistling and Rio steps away with her to pour some of the water into a mug and start steeping his tea. 

He’s all business again when he walks past Beth to sit in the living room. He crosses one ankle over his knee, relaxed and confident. He looks at her expectantly, waiting for her to join him. 

First, Beth takes off her coat and purse and sets them gently on the kitchen island. When she sits across from him, Rio says, “So I’m headin’ up to Canada this next weekend to have some meetins about our new course of action now that the dealership is blown.”

“That’s it?” Beth asks, somewhat surprised. “That’s the new development?” 

“Yeah,” Rio says, like this warranted an in-person visit. “That’s it. I got two guys up there both willin’ to distribute, but I gotta suss out what they chargin’, negotiate costs, hear what ideas they each got for gettin’ the product down here, et cetera.”

“I thought you came up with those kinds of ideas.”

“Sometimes. Sometimes I hear ‘em out.”

“Oh.”

“You disappointed or somethin’?” Rio asks, sipping his tea. “This is partnership, Elizabeth. Sometimes the updates aint all that excitin’.”

Beth’s mouth twists as she thinks of how to say what she wants to say. “I think I should be there,” she says slowly. “I want to be in the meetings and to help you decide. I want to go with you.”

Rio studies her in her blue silk floral blouse with a high-neck and a kitty bow. He raises an eyebrow. “Nah, I aint think that’s such a good idea.”

Beth bristles. “Why’s that?”

“Because,” Rio says. “It aint safe, _especially_ when you look like that.” 

“Like what?” Beth asks, offended, looking down to try to examine herself. She’s wearing her blazer, boots, and nice, cropped slacks. She looks _professional_. 

“Umm,” Rio says, trying to bite back a laugh as he drinks more of his tea. “Mama, you the one that’s always pointin’ out how I need you because you blend, because you don’t raise suspicions. Well… you don’t really _blend_ with our business associates.” 

“So I’ll get a new outfit,” Beth protests. 

“It still aint safe,” Rio argues. 

“Why? Because I’m a woman?”

“Yeah,” Rio says simply, like this is an explanation she should just accept. “Not a lot of women in this business, and so they’re gonna be suspicious of us comin’ in together, of our partnership. _That_ means they’re gonna make assumptions, which means if they got a problem with _me_ , they’re gonna assume _you’re_ the collateral that’ll make me budge. It aint _safe_.”

“That’s sexist.” Beth rolls her eyes.

“I don’t know what to tell you, darlin',” Rio says. “Turns out there’s a glass ceiling in crime, too?”

Beth doesn’t drop it, and they squabble back and forth. Beth accuses him of being The Man, Rio points out that that’s _absurd_ (or, well, he uses the word “whack,” but the spirit’s the same). Rio tries to break it down again, re-explain it, and Beth gets offended, accuses him of thinking she’s stupid, as if she doesn’t get it. 

“Well, _do_ you get it?” he asks, his eyes tight and worried. “Because I’m sayin’ there’s a risk that they’ll hurt you to try and get to me. I mean really, seriously hurt you.” 

“And I’m saying that I’m willing to take that risk because I’m _in_. All in.” 

Rio stands to take his mug into the kitchen, and Beth follows him. Rio’s silent for a minute after he washes his glass, and then he surrenders, saying, “You need to get better with a gun. _And_ get your own.” 

Beth bites her lip. She knows that this is true, but still, guns have been one of the biggest hurdles for her. Their prior lessons had been quick, almost superficial because they were on a clock—they'd mostly been about her own safety, how to properly handle one without hurting herself and all that. There was a reason that they’d planned for her to kill Boomer at such a short range: they didn’t have to get too technical about anything. 

“Fine,” Beth says. “I will.” 

“That means extra time together, training,” Rio says. “And no extra pay. It’s just part of the job.” 

“Fine,” Beth says in a clipped tone. 

“Fine,” Rio repeats, and then he roughly pulls her towards him and kisses her before taking her right there, her hands gripping the island as he fucks her hard and fast from behind, the frenzy of their sex dissipating any of the residual anger either of them is feeling. 

* * *

Afterward, Beth is redressing when Rio sits at the dining table in just his briefs and says, “That was good enough to work up an appetite.”

“Ha,” Beth says, but she agrees. She feels hunger pains and remembers she never ate lunch today. “Yeah.”

“So... you wanna do dinner?” His voice is casual.

“‘Do dinner’?” Beth repeats slowly, like it’s a foreign concept. She starts retying the bow at her neck. 

“Yeah, it’s this thing where we go out and we both eat a meal at the same time.” Rio's eyes shine bright as he smirks. “I know usually when we go out, you just watch me eat, but I was thinking we could mix it up. Do somethin’ crazy.” 

“That sounds nice,” Beth says, but she thinks about how low her bank balance is. She slides her slacks up her legs and begins rebuttoning them. “Or we could eat here?”

“You cookin’?” he asks.

“Don’t you cook?” she asks curiously. She searches around the kitchen for wherever he socks have ended up. “You’re just wasting all this lovely kitchenware if you don’t.”

“Sure, I cook. Not as good as you, but I cook,” he says.

“You don’t know how well I cook,” Beth argues. “You’ve never eaten my food.” 

Rio cups his chin in his hand. “Am I wrong, though?” 

“Well… no.” Beth typically doesn’t boast about herself, but she does know this about herself.

He laughs. “Okay, then. I guess you’ll cook.”

Beth sighs while rolling her socks onto her feet. “Fine.”

“I’m just teasin’, ma,” Rio says, getting up and putting his own pants and t-shirt back on. “I’ll cook for you. I aint invitin’ you to my house to make you cook for me.” 

He opens his fridge, figuring out what to make for them. 

“Hmm,” he says, thinking. “You like chicken tinga tacos? Or I can do desayuno tortas with this leftover braised beef. And I got stuff for a side salad.”

Beth feels slightly embarrassed. She doesn’t even recognize some of the words Rio is saying. She almost never eats Mexican food—it’s not that she doesn’t like it, necessarily, it’s just that Dean never did, so she hadn’t really eaten it for twenty years. 

“Um, whatever’s fine,” she says breezily. “Whatever’s easiest.”

Rio looks over his shoulder at her, reading her. “You don’t eat Mexican food?”

Beth blushes. “It’s just not in my repertoire,” she tells him. “But I’m sure I’ll like it. Make whichever one you like best.”

“You sure you don’t wanna go out?” he asks. “Because the only things I can cook kinda well are my ma's recipes. If you want somethin’ American, that ain’t in my ‘repertoire.’” 

Beth smiles. “Make one of your recipes. I’ll like it, I promise.”

Rio nods and starts pulling out the necessary ingredients for whatever dish he’s decided on when Beth’s phone rings, and it’s Dean.

“I have to take this, I’ll be right back,” she says. Rio nods—he’s already slicing up several avocados. Beth steps into the hall and answers the phone. “Hello?”

“Beth?” 

“Yeah, what’s up?” she asks. She’s already thinking ahead, thinking about how she can have this conversation go without having to mention where she is. 

“The kids were just wondering about dinner…” he says, but what she hears is, _When are you going to be home to cook for us?_

“Actually, uh, I’m out for dinner tonight. But there’s some leftover lasagna if you’d like something quick and easy. It’s in the blue dish on the second shelf.”

“Where are you?” Dean asks. 

“Just out running Christmas errands,” she lies. “I didn’t eat lunch today, so I just grabbed something while I was out.”

“Oh. Okay.” Dean pauses. “Well, when will you be home?”

“I’m not sure,” she says vaguely. “Probably before the kids go to bed, but I’m taking the gifts over to Ruby’s to wrap first.”

“Alright.” 

“If I’m not back, don’t wait up. We’re a few episodes behind on _Real Housewives_.”

Dean chuckles. “Yeah, I know how that always goes.”

They exchange a few more platitudes and then Beth hangs up. When she gets back, she asks how she can help. Rio refuses at first, but Beth insists, so he puts her on salad prep cutting up a watermelon and then peeling and seeding a papaya. He works simultaneously on frying some eggs, toasting some sort of bread, and reheating the braised beef, then moves on to making some sort of vinaigrette with olive oil, tequila, and lime juice. Beth watches him work and move fluidly in the kitchen, impressed. 

“What are we having?” Beth asks when he has her sample the dressing.

“Desayuno tortas,” he says. “With a papaya and watermelon salad. I also remembered my ma recently made some of her homemade tortilla chips, so we’ll make some guac when you’re done with that.” 

“What’s a desayuno torta?”

“It’s kinda like a breakfast sandwich. Braised beef, fried eggs, pickled jalapeños, chichurron de queso—that’s like a fried cheese,” he explains, seeing her confusion. “Plus cotija—another type of cheese—on grilled bolillo. That’s a type of bread.” He gestures towards the bread he’s toasting in the oven. 

“I thought you weren’t a sandwich guy,” she teases. “I’m ready to start on the guacamole, I think.”

“Oh, darlin,’” Rio says as hands her another prep bowl and pulls out some onions, tomatoes, and cilantro, and then he takes the bowls of fruit she’s prepped. He begins to chop up some jicama. “A torta is so much more than just a sandwich. Y’alls ham and cheese and tuna fishes got nothin’ on this.” 

Beth laughs. “‘Y’all’s’? What, you don’t consider yourself American?”

“Not when it comes to food,” he says, wrinkling his nose. “Y’all are severely lacking compared to the rest of the world.” He begins tossing greens with the watermelon, papaya, and jicama slices. 

“You didn’t eat any American food growing up? Hamburgers, hot dogs while camping? Apple pie on the 4th of July? Turkey on Thanksgiving?” She makes quick work of dicing the onions, tomatoes, and cilantro. “You got a mortar and pestle?”

“Here,” Rio says, digging the dishes out from under the counter and handing to Beth. He passes over the lime juice and salt, then begins preparing the tortas by moving the meat and cheeses to the bolillo bread. “And nah, we didn’t eat like that. She and my pop immigrated here straight from México—careful, you wanna leave the guac chunky—and they tried assimilatin’ as much as possible—I mean, they gave us all names that work in both Spanish and English—but food was somethin’ they weren’t willin’ to compromise. Thankfully.” 

“‘Us all’?” Beth asks. “Do you have a lot of brothers and sisters?”

Rio adds some of the same greens from the salad onto the tortas, then carefully moves the fried eggs over. The food’s just about done, she notices, and she wishes it wasn't, because Rio is much easier to talk to when his attention is divided between the conversation and another task. 

“Yeah, uh,” he pauses, and she thinks he’s realizing the same thing himself—that he’s just given up a lot of information about himself easily. He begins working on the finishing touches of everything, then tells her, “I got three sisters.”

“Wow,” Beth says. “Older? Younger?”

“Dinner’s ready,” he says, handing her a plate with a torta on it. “Dish up.” 

Beth dishes up her salad and a handful of tortilla chips. She scoops a large dollop of guacamole onto her plate, and then they both sit at the dining table. The torta is delicious enough to make her instantly regret not eating Mexican food for half of her life.

“This is really, _really_ good,” she says, scooping one of the tortilla chips into the guacamole and popping it into her mouth. “This too!”

“Thanks,” he says, and his lips curve into a smile. “It’s all my ma, though.”

They continue eating in comfortable silence for a couple of minutes until Rio speaks. “All three of my sisters are older.”

“You’re the baby?” Beth laughs. “I wouldn’t have guessed that.” She thinks of her own four children and the way their birth orders have shaped their personalities. It’s weird to think of Rio being the Jane of the family.

“Yeah, I s’pose,” he says, chewing thoughtfully. “But my dad died when I was 13, so I became the man of the house real quick. Never really felt like I was the baby. Miriam would tell you different, though.”

“Which sister is she?” Beth asks. She’d like to ask about his father, but she doesn’t want to press too hard too fast. 

“The oldest,” Rio says. “She’s always bitchin’ about me being spoiled.”

“How much older is she? Well, actually… how old are _you_?”

Rio smirks. “Younger than you, mama. You ever expect to be a cougar?”

She lightly slaps him. “Don’t be sexist. That’s an absurd term.”

“I know, I just like seein' your face scrunch up like that,” he says, and he gives her a shit-eating grin. Beth rolls her eyes, taking another bite of the torta. “I’m 35; Miriam’s almost ten years older than me.” 

“And the others?” 

“Verónica’s after Miriam, then Sonia. Sonia’s and me only got 11 months between us.” 

“Yikes,” Beth says, imagining how hard that would be to have two kids back-to-back like that. It’s hard enough staggering each of them by two years. “Which one was at Chuck E. Cheese with you?” 

“How’d you know that was my sister?” 

“Cheekbones,” Beth says, touching a finger to his.

“That was Sonia,” he says. “One of her kids is just a li’l older than Marcus. They’re kinda like brothers. Marcus spends a lot of time over there.”

“Oh?” Beth asks. “Is that where you picked him up from—the day I—you know?”

“Stalked me?” he says, laughing. A blush spreads from Beth’s neck to her cheeks while Rio loads up a chip with guacamole and eats it in one bite. “Yeah, it is.”

“Was that Sonia, the woman you picked him up from? I didn’t realize she was the same person from Chuck E. Cheese.”

“Nah, that was her wife,” Rio says. “Felicia watches Marcus after school until Elena or I can pick him up.”

“Do they know?” Beth asks, stabbing her fork into a perfect salad bite with all the ingredients. “What you do, I mean?” 

“Yeah, they all know to varyin’ degrees,” he says. He gestures towards Beth’s near-empty plate. “You done?”

“Yeah, I’m full,” she says, handing it to him. “That was wonderful. Thank you.”

Rio stands and takes the dishes to the sink to start immediately cleaning everything up and loading the dishwasher. Beth wants to swoon right there. She settles on a chair at the island, watching him work. 

“Miriam knows the least, ‘cause she’s real uptight and judgy. Verónica’s in the medical field, so she patches me up when needed. Sonia knows the most, mostly because it’s hard to keep any fuckin’ secrets from her. She’s nosy as hell, and she was around when I got started, since she’s almost the same age. But Miriam and Vee were already workin’ and startin’ their own lives. My mom knows nothin’. She thinks I went straight after some time in juvie.”

“Your sisters don’t gossip with each other, tattle on you to your mother?” Beth asks. She’s almost dizzy with the amount of information he’s sharing. 

“I’m sure they do a li’l,” he admits. “But Vee and Sonia know what Miriam’s like. They know she can’t keep a goddamn secret to save her life, so I figure it’s not much. If Miriam knew anythin’, my ma would, too. Wouldn’t be surprised if Vee and Sonia talk shit about me to each other, though.” He turns and grins at her, wiping his hands on a towel. 

Beth nods. “Yeah, my boys try to be careful not to do anything too bad in front of Emma—she’s a _very_ diligent reporter.” 

Rio gives a soft laugh and switches the dishwasher on. Dinner is over, and glancing at her watch, Beth realizes she should probably leave now. She kind of can’t believe how long she’s been over already. 

“Well, I’d probably better go,” she says, making to stand up and collect her purse.

“Or you could stay,” he says. 

Beth pauses with her hand on her purse. “You want me to stay? The night?”

“Well, if you wanna,” he says, like it makes no difference to him. Beth remembers her conversation with Ruby though, her insistence that Rio _likes_ her, that she keeps disappearing whenever he makes a gesture. She remembers Marcus telling Elena that Rio smiles when he gets off the phone with her.

“Sure,” she says, picking her purse up just high enough to drop it back down with some finality. “I can stay.”

* * *

  
Beth and Rio mostly talk business after dinner, discussing the trip to Canada and what to expect. Rio tells her what he knows about the two people who will be pitching proposals to him; he’s worked with one prior, but the other one’s new, recommended from one of his associates here in Detroit. Even though she’s embarrassed, Beth asks Rio what she should wear, and they even browse together online on Rio’s laptop. He steers her away from anything floral, and he nixes her cat burglar turtleneck browses as well. 

When they’re finally read to settle into bed, Rio gives Beth a t-shirt to wear. 

“You got any pajama pants?” she asks.

Rio smirks. “Nah, I don’t have matchin’ sets like you. Don’t worry—I’ll keep you warm.” 

“Ha, ha,” Beth says, and she ducks into his closet to change. 

“You oddly private about changin’ your clothes considerin’ I’ve been inside you,” Rio calls loudly as he strips down to just his briefs again. “I already seen you naked, remember?” 

Beth doesn’t respond. 

“What’s that about?” he asks when she reappears, his shirt stretching across her chest and barely covering her ass. He checks her out shamelessly, and Beth blushes. 

“What’s what about?” Beth asks, playing innocent, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking a make-up wipe out of her purse to begin cleansing her face.

Rio crawls on top of her, forcing her to lie back so that he’s got her pinned between his legs. “Why you act coy when I’ve had my face buried in your cunt, huh? You remember a few hours ago, when I was fucking you from behind, my cock fillin’ you up? You were moanin’ my name, if I recall.”

Beth’s mouth falls open at his lewdness, but he just grins lasciviously. 

“So why you all shy now?”

“It’s just different,” Beth says. 

“Yeah? How so?” He kisses her neck just below her ear.

“It just is,” she says as he starts to give her a hickey. 

“Yeah, but I’m askin’ specifics.”

Beth turns her neck away from him so he stops, then she says nervously, all in a jumble, “When we’re in the moment, I’m not worried about you, like, looking at every flaw of mine, or whatever. But when I’m changing, it’s just like I’m there on display for you to, I guess, like, _scrutinize_. I don’t know. It’s dumb. Forget it.”

“You think I’m scrutinizin’ you? Like, judgin’ you?” he asks, turning her chin towards him so he can look her in the eye. 

“It’s not, like, _specifically_ you,” Beth says, pushing gently so Rio rolls off of her. He lies next to her, and she can feel him looking at her as she concentrates on the ceiling. “Just, you know, anyone.” 

Beth suspects it clicks fairly quickly for Rio—it’s not like there’s many to choose from in the pool of people who have seen her naked. His expression hardens. 

“Dean say things?” he asks, voice cold. “Make you feel bad about yourself?” 

“He wasn’t trying to hurt my feelings,” Beth says. “But, I mean, I guess, yeah. Sometimes. You know, a little comment here or there about a lift or a nip/tuck… stuff about creams, about days I didn’t wear makeup. You know, just little stuff.”

“‘Little stuff,’” he repeats. “Why you actin’ like that shit’s okay? Downplayin’ it?”

Beth feels tears prickling the corner of her eyes. “I don’t know. I guess I just get it, on some level? I mean, we were together twenty years—my body changed a lot, and it wasn’t all good—I mean, it was mostly not good—so I guess—”

Rio sucks his teeth. “So it’s aight to scrutinize you then? Put you under the microscope, just ‘cause you changed?” 

Beth’s quiet. 

“Okay,” Rio says, standing up and stepping in front of her. “If it’s not a big deal, then lemme do it.” 

“What?” Beth tugs at the t-shirt, trying to pull it down further. Rio grabs her wrist away.

“First, let’s talk about your big mouth,” he says, and Beth’s face crumples. He runs a finger along her bottom lip. “You always talkin’ shit, sassin’ me, puttin’ me in my place. That mouth of yours caught my attention and intrigued the hell out of me from the start.” He leans over her and kisses her hard, leaving Beth breathless.

“You got all these freckles on your legs,” Rio says, and he grabs her legs and lifts them so that they’re parallel with his body, so her ankles rest on his shoulder. He presses his fingers firmly into different areas of freckled skin. “And every time I get the chance to see ‘em, all I can think about is you lyin’ half-naked in the sun. It’s fuckin’ distractin’.” 

The dimple in Beth’s cheek makes an appearance as he slides his hands down her thighs until he slaps the side of her ass. He tugs at her legs a little, so that she’s hanging off the bed a little bit. “Your ass,” he says. “Every time I look at it I gotta remember you liftin’ up your dress for me in that bathroom. You got me gettin’ hard in the middle of public, ma, which is just cruel.”

Beth giggles, and Rio reaches to lift Beth’s shirt up so that he can see her bare breasts. “These tits,” he says, sucking in a breath, watching as her nipples harden for him. “When I watch ‘em bounce as I’m fucking you… Jesus. They make it hard for me to make sure I got you pantin’ and moanin’ and comin’ on my cock before I just lose it—I don’t like that.”

Rio gives her a harsh look, his eyebrows knit, as he maneuvers around her panties and pushes a finger into her. “Don’t get my started on your cunt,” he groans. “Every time I touch you, your panties are already soaked. I got a big ol’ ego now, and I blame you.”

“Shut up,” Beth laughs, but her laugh turns into a moan when he inserts another finger and pushes into her deeper, his fingers curling to hit that perfect spot that makes her vision go dark. It’s a struggle for her to form the words: “You—always—had—a—big—ego.” 

Rio’s laugh makes something bloom between Beth’s ribcage. He takes one of her legs and positions it on his other shoulder. He jerks his briefs down so that his cock bounces out. Gripping it at the base, he slides it up and down Beth’s entrance, lubing it up. When he pushes himself into her, he doesn’t ease in slowly—the sharpness of his hip bones juts into her upper thighs as he drives deep into her. Beth practically yelps in pleasure. 

“Touch your tits,” Rio says, and Beth is obedient. “Fuck, your hands. Small and delicate. When I notice ‘em with them painted nails, I’m always imagining the way they’d look wrapped around my cock. You makin’ me a filthy man.” 

Beth’s moans are staggered with Rio’s thrusts, briefly interrupted every time he slams into her again. “Don’t blame me for that—” she pants. “You were always—oooh, fuck, yes—filthy.”

Rio smirks and then reaches to move one of Beth’s hands down to her clit. “Touch yourself,” he commands. Beth’s fingers move at a rapid pace, and it’s not long before she’s crying out and clenching around his cock. Her hearing becomes muffled as her ears ring. She sighs and goes to move her hand, but Rio stops her. “Don’t. Keep going.” 

“I can’t—I’m too sensitive.”

“Keep. Going.”

Beth touches herself again, softer this time, because her clit is throbbing and electric, but Rio somehow manages to increase the intensity and quickness of his thrusts even still. Her eyes shutter closed and she’s not sure she can take it anymore—

“Your eyes,” Rio says. “I don’t got anything clever to say. I just like ‘em. Look at me, mama.” 

Her eyelids flutter open and Rio’s gaze is intense and focused for just a second before he becomes jerky and she can feel his cock throbbing and twitching inside of her, feel his cum spilling into her, and if it’s even possible, Beth becomes even more turned on. Her third orgasm of the night hits her like a train. It feels like it rolls through her entire body, and she just whimpers in the face of its severity. 

Rio moves Beth’s jelly legs off his shoulders and she can’t move, she’s so spent. Rio collapses beside her. He looks over at her and reaches over to kiss her, moving her sweat-stained bangs off her forehead.

“Lastly,” he says. “Your big ol’ head, housin’ that big ol’ brain. You're smart as fuck, Elizabeth, but sometimes your brain thinks up the dumbest shit, like that it’s okay for _anyone_ to look at you and not see what I see. Stop that shit, aight?” 

“Okay,” Beth breathes. 

Both too exhausted to move, they fall asleep right there, their legs dangling off the edge of the bed. 

**Author's Note:**

> Next chapter is Rio POV!


End file.
